


I've Got You

by DragonofFernweh



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Cuban Lance (Voltron), Fluff, Homesickness, Hurt/Comfort, Insecure Lance (Voltron), Insecurity, M/M, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, but he still does an excellent job, comforting!keith, even though he has no idea what he's doing, ill add more tags each time i add a chapter, keith comforts lance, klance, lance doesn't feel good enough for the team
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-09-22 03:25:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9580376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonofFernweh/pseuds/DragonofFernweh
Summary: Keith isn’t great at the whole comfort thing, he doesn’t have a way with words, nor does he have much experience in way of affection. Still, when Lance hurts, Keith wants to do something to help. Unbeknownst to him, he’s much more help than he realizes. Also unbeknownst to him, he’s just as deserving of being taken care of.Otherwise known as; five times Keith comforts Lance, and one time Lance comforts Keith.





	1. Homesickness

_To confront a person with his shadow is to show him his own light._

ღ

I

There’s a private place in the castle that Lance likes to visit, sometimes. It’s usually when he misses home the most, when he can’t get it off his mind. So, when it gets too much, he’ll slip away and head up to the room he discovered a while ago, the one with the huge window that overlooks the universe. Well, the piece of universe that's theirs, for the time being. It’s a stunning sight that he feels kind of guilty over not sharing, but every time he thinks about it, he hesitates. Whether it’s selfishness or a reluctance to admit why he’s been coming up here, Lance isn’t sure.

Who cares? It’s not like he has to explain himself to anyone. When Lance looks out over the vast expanse of stars, sometimes he talks to them, and he pretends that one of them is Earth. It's like he’s sharing some of his stories with his family. Yeah, maybe it’s ridiculous, but it makes Lance feel better, and less like he’s light-years away from his family. It’d be nice to get to share all those stories in person, but…Lance shakes that haunting thought off. They’ll make it home, they have to. They’re fighting for everyone in the universe here, after all, and a hero has to have his big return home, right?

Tonight is good for spending in front of the window. Lance sits and pulls his knees up to his chest, with his gaze glued out of the window. In a way, he supposes this should make him feel anxious, or something similar. It’s not a normal thing to pass a window and see the bottomless void of space, you know? But he doesn’t feel that way, instead he feels almost comfortable. It’s not home, not by a long shot. But, in a way, the wide openness of space reminds Lance of the ocean. Aside from his family, the ocean has to be what Lance misses most. Water has always been where he feels the most comfortable, almost like it's a part of him. The ocean could be dangerous, unpredictable, and it was endless and largely unexplored. Much like outer space.

The ache settles deep in Lance’s chest, as sudden and piercing as a bullet. The feeling of loss always comes on so fast and so intense, it feels like a raw wound torn open again and again. It’s like someone pouring saltwater over the gaping loss in him, and it reminds him of how the ocean water stung his scraped knees and elbows as a kid. Lance never thought he’d miss that feeling. Warmth begins to well in Lance’s eyes, the pain in his chest overflowing.

It had been hard moving to the Garrison, but at least there, he’d been able to call or message his family whenever! Out here, he doesn’t even have a picture of them. He misses his mother’s singing, the way her voice could soothe him after a nightmare in the night, or frighten him and his siblings into quick obedience. He misses playing baseball with his dad and little brother, and how his dad’s laugh could boom through the whole house. He misses his grandmother’s cooking and stories, and his little sisters and their exciting giggles as they begged him to do their makeup or play pretend. He misses their scruffy terrier mutt that his youngest sister, Estefania, had scooped up one day and come stumbling into the house with. Every memory makes more tears spill down Lance’s cheeks, but he can’t seem to shut off the valve.

“Lance?”

Lance starts at the question, and he knows immediately who it is. With a swear under his breath, he runs the back of his hand over his eyes and tries to straighten up. “Hey Keith, what’s up buddy? How’d you find your way up here, you stalkin’ me now?” Lance tries to put some pep in his voice, but it cracks at the end, and as a career melodrama queen, that's appalling. “It’s got a good view, and all. If you dig an endless abyss,” Lance can’t tell if he’s even trying to make a joke, now. He sees Keith out of the corner of his vision, and he’s without his jacket, which makes Lance think he’s just come from the training deck.

Keith isn’t sure what possessed him to come up here. He’s seen Lance head this way before, when the others aren't paying attention. Sometimes Lance would be gone for an hour, sometimes he wouldn't show up again until the next day. Keith tries to convince himself that, when he decided to see where the corridor led, that it was only out of curiosity. But, he's noticed the way Lance goes quiet, the way he got that distant look in his eyes, like he was looking at something the others couldn’t see. As Keith walks into the room, he sees Lance sitting and staring out of the window, and something strikes Keith as off. Maybe Keith shouldn’t assume things, maybe he should head back out and leave Lance alone. Keith tries to turn around and leave, and instead, Lance’s name is finding its way out of his mouth. As if things don’t already seem wrong, Lance’s shtick was overtly fake, and it makes Keith even more suspicious.

He walks up to Lance, silent at first, and stands near the window to look out of it. The stars glitter, and Keith pretends to admire them as he glances at Lance out of the corner of his eye. There are damp trails glistening on Lance’s face—shit, Lance has been crying? Suddenly, Keith wishes it were Hunk up here, or Shiro, one of them who was good with words. Even Pidge would be better at this than Keith is. Reaching up, Keith rubs the back of his neck. “Um, who knows, maybe the abyss is someone’s thing,” Keith says, glancing at Lance once.

Lance cocks a brow, and before Keith can change what he’s said, a smirk is curving on Lance’s lips. “Someone’s thing?” Lance puts his knees down and leans forward a bit, “like, they’re into the abyss, it’s their kink?”

Keith groans and wishes he’d remembered Lance’s crude sense of humor. “I didn’t say _kink_ , I said thing, it’s their thing! Like how Pidge’s thing is robots!” Keith hears Lance snort.

“Oh, so I should stop _thing-shaming_ , right? Are you into the abyss, Keith? It makes sense, it’s cold and all mysterious and junk,” Lance is grinning, now. Keith has his arms crossed, and he turns to scowl at Lance, but he’s stopped by the sight of the grin. The tear tracks are drying, now, and it’s obvious Lance isn’t crying anymore. The smile looks much better on Lance’s face, it suits him more than tears do. As if that thought might somehow be overhead, Keith feels his face grow warmer.

“Maybe we should start shaming you, next time you try flirting with some alien rock,” Keith mutters, and he starts towards the couch to take a seat on it.

Lance clicks his tongue, having taken offense. “I’ll have you know that I have excellent taste. The best, in fact! I have a radar for those things!” Lance exclaims, placing his hand over his chest.

It’s Keith’s turn to snort. “You tried to get a cactus to go on a date with you on the last planet we were on, genius.” Granted, the cactus had been rather humanoid in shape, that doesn’t mean Lance isn’t going to get teased about it from here until the end of time.

Lance folds his arms and pouts at the injustice. “Dude, you lived in the desert for a year or something. You’d probably hit on a cactus too, if we left you out there any longer!” That, or Keith would have started talking to the lizards. Lance smirks at the thought, but his expression sobers, a familiar homesickness creeping up on him. And this time, it doesn't even start with him thinking about his own. “Hey, Keith…” Keith waits a moment, but when Lance doesn’t finish, he cocks his head to signify Lance should continue. “Do you ever, y’know…miss that desert? Or Earth?” It’s a stupid question, and Lance winces in regret as soon as he’s asked it. He’s just being a little kid about missing home. He’s almost nineteen, he should be all brave and cool about being away from home.

Keith blinks. “No, not really. I mean, it’s not like that was home, it was just where I had left to go.” Keith watches Lance’s eyes darken and realizes he must’ve said something wrong, again. Rushing to amend that, Keith tries to think of what Shiro or Hunk might say. “Uh, but it’s not like I don’t miss some things.” Lance gives Keith the side eye, and Keith figures he might as well go on. “I miss there being real food instead of translucent goo, for one. I miss music, and books that aren’t in an ancient language.” Keith shrugs, and Lance huffs out a quiet laugh a moment later.

“Yeah, I’d kill for a pizza, or a pastelito. At least Hunk made the food goo kind of taste like it wasn’t toxic waste, but still, it’s no gourmet.” Lance’s smile is back, but it’s more reminiscent, now. “My family always cooked a lot. I used to avoid baking, because the kitchen would get so hot, but now I miss it. I miss the crowd and noise.” Lance hears his own voice choke up, but somehow can’t bring himself to be as embarrassed as he should be.

Keith feels about as out of place as a Balmeran in the ocean. Clearing his throat, he places his hand on Lance’s shoulder, and hopes it’s reassuring in some way. “You’ll get that again. We’re out here to win, Lance, and when we do, you’ll get to go home. I’m…I’m sure your family misses you just as much, you’ll be a hero when you go back to them.” That wasn’t so bad, right? Maybe Keith doesn’t possess Hunk’s calming personality or Shiro’s wisdom, but he can say _something_.

Lance mulls over Keith’s words, letting them sink into his heart where that raw wound is. They feel like a bandage. “Yeah…yeah, you’re right! We’ll all be heroes. My sisters will be so excited to know their big brother saved the world!” Lance snickers, picturing that thought and holding onto it. “We’ll all be welcomed back,” Lance says, but he furrows his brow after a moment. “You’re not gonna go back to that shack, are you?”

Keith’s a bit taken aback by the question, because it’s not as if he’s thought about it. Not as much as the others, who have things to look forward to back on Earth. After a moment, he shrugs. What else is he supposed to do?  “I don’t know, yet. I mean, it’s not like I had a lot on Earth. Not like you, or the others. I think that this is kind of a home, now.” Keith looks out the window again. “I know it’s not the same, but this is sort of a second home, a second family, or something.” Keith gives Lance’s shoulder a squeeze before he pulls away.

Lance misses the contact almost as soon as it’s gone. Jeez, now he's feeling sappy? He shakes off that feeling, but he’s smiling, and it almost hurts it’s so genuine. “Yeah, you’re right. We’re a weird, alien-human-lion family. Ohana, right?”

At the expression on Keith’s face, Lance almost face-palms, but Keith speaks before he can. “Nobody gets left behind?” Keith has about two seconds after he finishes the sentence before Lance throws his arms around him. He seems determined to suffocate the unsuspecting Red Paladin in a hug.

“Finally, a reference you understand!” Lance shouts, and yeah, the over-dramatics are back. “I’m so proud!” Keith is struggling to pry Lance’s arms off, but the jerk is surprisingly strong when he wants to be, and he holds fast. Eventually, Keith huffs and sinks into the embrace, figuring he’s stuck either way. Lance grins when he feels Keith relax. They spend a few seconds like that, the only noise their respective breathing, a bit heavy from the struggle. After a moment of hesitance, Lance whispers, “thanks.” It’s quiet and short, but sweet.

Keith is still for a moment, but in the end, he raises his hand up to rest against Lance’s arm, where it's wrapped around Keith’s chest.

Lance knows he won’t ever be alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyway, I’ve seen countless fics that are like “X times Character A did something to Character B, and X times Character B did it.” So of course, I wanted to join in, and as I was lying in bed in an insomniac haze, some ideas for one came to me. I was going to put it all down in one go, but this got longer than I’d anticipated, so I’m gonna go for chapters that I’ll try to crank out quick!


	2. A Part of the Team

II

“Maybe I don’t really have a thing,” Lance murmurs, talking more to himself than anything. In his hands is a little stuffed toy that looks like an alien foxlike creature, but it's not all that great a conversationalist. It's soft, though, and that's enough to ameliorate some of his anxiety. Lance’s fingers are steady as he flips the toy in the air once before tossing it onto his bed. It lands on his pillow, sitting neatly, like he’d intended. A perfect shot.

Something ugly curls in Lance’s chest. He’s a good shot while tossing a stuffed animal, wow, how unique. Having a decent aim isn’t exactly Paladin material. Guaranteed, any of the other four in the team can pick up a firearm and shoot it at a target with great precision. It isn’t all that special of a talent after all, is it? Lance likes throwing the title “sharpshooter” around because it sounds important, at least as important as the others on his team. But, he knows he isn’t.

The others are way more valuable than he is, by miles! Hunk is diplomatic and good at talking situations down, even with his own bad anxiety. Maybe that makes him relate to frightened people with more ease. He’s strong and cheerful, and half the time it’s his ebullience that pushes the team to stay hopeful. Hunk is optimism, and hugs, and a rock to lean on.

Pidge is a frickin’ genius, fourteen years old and she could probably run NASA by herself. Her brilliance had been boggling back on Earth, and out in space it’s far more of a formidable threat. Lance doesn’t doubt that she could take on Zarkon just by outsmarting him. Well, maybe she’d need her lion, but still. She understands all the plans, she _makes_ the majority of the plans, she’s saved the team more than once! Without her, the universe would be screwed over ten times.

Shiro’s value is unlimited. He’s the leader of Voltron, the one who keeps them under control and whose guidance pushes them all to be the best. It’s Shiro who makes sure they all take care of themselves, perform in top condition, and hone their skills. He knows what to look for to temper his guidance for each Paladin, and Lance is sure he’s never seen anyone with such strong leadership skills. Shiro is patient, he’s willing to help anyone and everyone in need and can earn the trust of near anyone, and he always knows the right thing to say. Shiro isn’t much older than Lance is, himself, but it still feels like there’s a decade between them.

And there’s Keith…the best damn pilot of his generation. The guy who got all the praise. Among them, Keith’s combat skills are matched only by Shiro, and even then, Lance has never seen them spar full force. Keith could take down five people at once, and he’s as quick with his wits as he is with his reflexes. Keith is brave, and he’s always off saving the day and gaining Shiro’s admiration. Lance wishes he had half the prowess in combat and battle that Keith does.

Instead, Lance is the guy who can shoot at things, and somehow lands the shot. Lance is the one with stupid jokes, who’s more a nuisance than a help when it comes down to it. He’s totally expendable, Lance could drop off right now and the others could find someone else to pilot his lion, and they’d never notice his absence. He doesn’t have anything to bring to the table like the others do, he’s just an extra, someone in the back of the scene... The Blue Lion deserves a better Paladin, one who’s not such a joke, one who isn’t so…replaceable.

Bitterly, Lance stands and storms out of his room. It’s a shame they can’t slam doors around here, because he’d have set a world record for that. He sheds his jacket as he walks, one destination clear in his head, and his fingers are already twitching with anticipation. If he can just train himself enough, hone his skills to prove himself worthy of being a Paladin, then the others will recognize him. He won’t be a broken wheel trailing behind, trying to slip in by making jokes or the occasional sarcastic comment. The training deck is cool and silent when Lance enters, and he tosses his jacket to the side, Bayard in hand. “Begin training level one!”

The android drops, and Lance readies himself. Keith is right, Lance favors his distance too much, he should practice close combat…but at the same time, he wants to improve his skill with his shooting. It’s the only thing he’s good at, he can’t stand to just be _good_ , he needs to be great. He wants his team to give him that title, not just himself.

Lance doesn’t want to be weak.

* * *

“He never misses dinner,” Keith mutters to himself, the only noise he has while traipsing through the halls of the castle. Lance never skips a meal made by Hunk, so when he’d been absent at dinner that night, they’d all worried. They’d waited to see if he might show halfway through, and Coran’s suggestion that Lance may be sick could be true. Still, Keith had finished early and excused himself. He brought a bottle of the vitality water with him, it’s not a real substitute for a meal, but it’s packed with good nutrients and electrolytes.

He just wants to check on Lance to make sure he’s not dying from space sniffles or something. Unfortunately, Lance isn’t in his room. Keith is a little more worried now, without knowing where Lance has vanished off to. He’s checked the lounging room, and now he’s going to check the training deck out of habit. It’s where Keith likes going, when he needs time alone, so it’s his next thought. Lance might’ve headed up to that stargazing room, since it's his personal hideout, which is Keith's next point to check. If that’s it, Keith hopes Lance isn’t making himself sick with longing again. He's started opening up to Keith more about his family, after that night, sharing stories and memories about them. Keith finds that, while Shiro is the only person who he trusted before, he actually likes listening to Lance’s stories.

It's the way Lance's eyes light up, and they seem as clear as a crystalline lake, shining with eagerness and affection. Keith knows about Lance's little sisters and how they got most of their fashion and makeup tips from him. Which he learned by shadowing his mother, who is a small and very fierce woman. Lance’s father is a friendly, strong man who used to pick Lance up and throw him up in the sky. Of course, he’d always catch Lance, but apparently, it gave his mother chest pains. Lance always got loudest and the most gleeful when he spoke about the beaches; the white sands, and the peaceful blue waters. When those stories come up, Lance leans against Keith, regaling about how he learned to surf. How he loves looking for the best seashells, and how the water always seemed to invite him in, like it was welcoming him home. That soft, fond expression on Lance’s face when he thinks about something he loves, it’s one of Keith’s favorite things, now.

Keith is so lost in thought, that he’s almost to the training deck before he hears the sound of metal clashing and lasers firing. He almost rolls his eyes. Shiro is always telling Keith not to train through meals, now it’s Lance? It’s not like Lance to get so zoned out like that. Keith waits by the doors until they open, and the words he has on his tongue die when he sees Lance.

It’s obvious Lance has been at this a while, his limit already broken and scattered around the training arena. He’s sweating, looking ready to drop. Soon enough, that’s exactly what happens. Lance sinks to one knee, his Bayard deactivating and becoming dormant in his hand. The android is still moving despite Lance's collapse. There’s only one now, but five are lying crumpled around the training room. Lance made it up to level six, and Keith can see he hasn’t stopped once. “End training sequence!” Keith commands, seconds before the android can deal a blow to Lance.

Lance doesn’t even jump at the sudden voice, he does nothing but look up at Keith and flash him a weak smile. A string in Keith’s heart tugs, but it’s overcome by annoyance. Keith isn’t sure why that’s the first emotion to pop up, as he’s worried, not angry. He’s beside Lance in an instant, scowling as he kneels in front of the boy. “What the hell are you doing? How long have you been in here?” Keith snaps, shoving the water pouch into Lance’s hand. Lance manages to hold onto it, but he doesn’t drink.

“I needed to train, I have to get better,” Lance is breathing so heavily that he can only get out the minimum of what there is to say. He slumps forward then, onto Keith’s chest. Keith panics and almost pushes Lance off, but he catches himself before that happens, resting his hands on Lance’s shoulders. Instead of shoving him away, Keith slowly sits all the way down, and shifts Lance to lean against him. He feels awkward the whole time, but he figures it's better than dumping Lance on the floor and leaving him there.

“Lance, drink. You’re dehydrated,” Keith tells him, to which Lance grumbles, but he does as he’s told. The water tastes like bliss, and he feels it cooling in his veins, where he’s scorched them all to ash. Keith is quiet for a few seconds, where Lance is leaning on him and drinking greedily. Lance doesn’t tend to overwork himself, Keith has seen him train, yes, but not to this extent. Lance usually trains enough to keep Shiro happy, not to push himself to the point of passing out.

“What did you mean you have to get better?" Keith asks, "getting better doesn’t mean getting yourself killed on the training deck! You can’t just push through all the levels nonstop, what were you thinking?” Keith tries not to shout, because he knows Lance is only a couple of inches away, but he can’t contain how angry he is. Is that what he is? Angry? It doesn’t feel quite like that, but it’s all Keith can use.

Lance scoffs and almost chokes on the water. He leans up a bit, but that effort alone feels like he’s got a boulder on his chest. “I said I have to get _better_. I’m the weakest link on the team, I’m lucky the Blue Lion lets me pilot her.” Lance’s bitter tone is jarring, and the fact that Keith finds it so is as much of a surprise as the tone itself. Lance tries to lean up, and Keith thinks he intends to stand, but things don’t get that far. Lance’s body won’t support him right now, and he ends up stumbling back. Keith holds an arm out to catch Lance and, for the second time, winds up with Lance glued to his chest. Lance’s chest is still heaving, and Keith can see a few bruises and cuts marring the boy’s brown skin. Once the adrenaline wears off, Lance is going to be sore. “You see? I can’t even stand! You can get to level five without blinking a freaking eye!”

Keith rolls his eyes. “I trained for that, you idiot! Shiro trained me in combat for two years, and I kept practicing on my own," Keith gestures at the pile of androids, "I built up endurance, you can’t just go all in and expect to see progress in one day!” Keith honestly doesn’t know what’s gotten into Lance’s head, but he needs to knock it off. If he ever calls Keith reckless again, Keith is going to throw this incident in Lance’s face along with the middle finger. “You could have hurt yourself. Why are you so obsessed with this? You aren’t the weakest link, that—”

“Yes, I am!” Lance shouts, cutting Keith off and dwarfing the younger man’s voice. “I have nothing! Compared to the rest of you, I’m a joke. I was a cargo pilot back at the Garrison at first, I don’t have the badass fighting skills you and Shiro have, and I’m not a genius like Pidge and Hunk! You’re all something great and I’m just something replaceable.” Lance’s brow furrows in pain. The word is heavy and tastes like iron, but it’s true, and sometimes the truth hurts.

What hurts more than that, though, is Keith shoving him off. Lance yelps when he’s pushed away and lands on the floor, which isn’t a far drop, but still, ow? “Keith, man, what the hell?” Lance asks, pushing up onto his elbows and looking up at Keith, who is the very definition of seething, right now.

“Don’t you ever say that again!” Keith’s voice is loud enough to echo, and Lance’s eyes go wide. He’s seen Keith lose his temper, but never quite like this. There’s something desperate in his eyes that makes Lance want to look away, but also keeps him locked onto Keith’s gaze. Keith swipes his arm in front of him in a gesture of denying Lance’s words, those awful, lying words. “You’re our Blue Paladin, Blue chose you for a reason, and I don’t know why you’re suddenly blind to that, but it’s an important reason!”

Keith is speaking fast, as if he’s worried Lance will run away. “She knew you were a Paladin, her Paladin. She knew we needed you! Voltron would never form without you." Keith clenches his hands, and Lance is silent through the tirade. "You’re the most adaptable person here, you can survive on any terrain and you keep us alive, too. You’re cool and collected, and you’re the deadliest shot I’ve ever seen!” Keith has to stop, he has to take a breath, and what he says next comes out softer, but with far more conviction. “You’re completely irreplaceable. You’re one of us, and we’d be shit without you.”

With the rant over, Keith is breathing about as hard as Lance, now, but it feels like he’s expelled everything from his chest. The two boys stare at each other for several moments, Lance’s eyes are still wide and he’s stunned silent, and Keith’s scowl remains. As the ticks pass, Keith starts to think maybe he’s gone too far, there’s a boundary somewhere he crossed, but _how_ could he let Lance believe that? Any of that, when it’s complete bullshit? Keith sags then, not having realized how much tension had built in his muscles. He starts to say something, he has no idea what it should be, but before he does, Lance is smiling. It’s a soft, fond smile.

“You really think I’m that important?” Lance asks, with a hint of his familiar cocksure personality.

Keith doesn’t miss a beat, “I know it, you jerk.” He leans down again, reaching for Lance’s arm, and puts it around his shoulders. “Now get up, if you’re gonna pass out, do it in your room," Keith says, "and don’t pull this again. If you want to train, I’ll help you. You don’t start out full force.” Keith is lecturing, and he’s struck with a memory of Shiro telling him something almost identical. Keith purses his lips and instead focuses on supporting Lance’s weight as the boy pushes himself up. Once he’s up, he can stand a little on his own, but he’s still leaning on Keith for support. Keith takes a tentative step, and Lance follows fine, so he starts to walk towards their rooms. “You’re going to be sore in the morning,” Keith warns, a hint of a smirk on his lips.

“I’m sore _now_ ,” Lance says, and he receives a small laugh from Keith. Lance turns his head to look at Keith, as if just seeing him for the first time. “Was that a laugh? Shit, I _am_ good!” Lance is beaming, and when Keith nudges him a bit, Lance winces, but he still laughs.

“You’re going to hurt even worse if you don’t shut up until I can throw you in your room. I can still toss you out of the airlock,” Keith says, and Lance thinks he’s joking. Lance hopes, anyway.

He leans his head against Keith’s, and Keith feels his face growing warm, like it did that night in the star room a few weeks ago. Lance doesn’t remember when he got so comfortable with this, with getting so close to Keith, but he actually doesn’t find it annoying right now. It feels natural. Though, in outer space, “natural” doesn’t have much pull. “C’mon, you’d miss me!” Lance grins. Keith sighs and tightens his grip around Lance’s waist. Privately, he thinks that Lance might be right.

Also privately, that kind of scares the hell out of Keith.


	3. Insecurities

III

“You two are gross,” Pidge’s comment is deadpan as she looks over the top of her laptop. Lance looks up at her from where he’s at the counter, chopping up a strange, indigo vegetable that Hunk plans to try and make a meal out of. Keith, who’s had his chin resting on Lance’s shoulder, starts to step sideways away. Lance gives a gentle tug on the hem of Keith’s jacket, ordering him to stay where he is. Pidge doesn’t mean anything, she’s just being a gremlin, they both know it. Keith still struggles with the openness that Lance is so comfortable with.

“You know what’s gross? That you still haven’t upgraded our lions with the lists we made.” Lance points the chopping knife at Pidge, who couldn't look more unimpressed if she tried.

“I’m not programming your lion to blare Shakira songs. At least Hunk’s is more reasonable, he just wants a bathroom,” Pidge grumbles, and she really can’t believe these two are her best friends. What did she do wrong?

“I can’t believe I’m hearing the great Pidge, unable to complete a task!” Lance shakes his head in mock disappointment. Keith glances over at Pidge and smirks when he sees her eyes glint. He does step away this time, but it’s out of wariness that she’s going to sling her laptop at Lance. She can fix anything she breaks, so there’s never anything that holds Pidge back should she decide to maim one of them.

“I said I wouldn’t, not that I couldn’t. If you get lonely in there, sing to yourself. Better yet, maybe we’ll find a planet with sirens, then you can listen to them sing!” Pidge grins a manic smile before snapping her laptop shut, clearly ending the conversation, and shuffling out of the room. “Keith, keep a muzzle on that thing, will you?” she calls over her shoulder, and Lance almost chucks an indigo-carrot-thing at her head. He huffs after she’s gone.

“I didn’t raise her to be that rude,” Lance mutters, resuming his vegetable chopping with a bit more force. Keith watches, and he wants to lean on Lance again, but he pulls back from that. He doesn’t like to do it in public, when he does, it's because he forgets where they're at. Keith's only just getting comfortable with Lance’s overt affections, and he wonders if Lance has any personal space boundaries at all. When he can, Lance clings to all the others like a beach koala. Lance seems to notice the hesitance, and he glances at Keith over his shoulder. “Something up?” he asks.

Keith shakes his head, “I’m not getting too close, not with how aggressively you’re chopping those up.” So what if he’s using that as a cover so he doesn’t have to explain his own shortcomings with this whole affection thing? He’s starting to be more open when he’s alone with Lance, lately. Now, he has someone else to go when he needs something, instead of bottling it up. Keith used to rely solely on Shiro, but even then, he held back out of his own learned habit. Keith doesn’t know how to let people in, but he’s trying. And, for Lance, he’s trying a little harder. That doesn’t mean it’s easy or that it always works. It's hard to break a habit you grew up with.

Lance narrows his eyes a bit, but ultimately decides not to push it, and turns back to chopping. Keith is expecting a snarky reply, but he doesn’t get one. Great, is Lance mad at him, or at Pidge? Or the vegetables he’s currently destroying? “Lance?” Keith starts, “what’s the—”

Before Keith can finish, Hunk comes into the kitchen and witnesses the destruction of his ingredients. He stops dead and raises his hands up, mock surrendering. “Lance, bro, I asked if you’d slice them, not murder them,” Hunk looks with pity at the dices of indigo covering the chopping board. “I mean, it’s still good, but what did they do to you?”

Hunk nudges Keith and shares a smile with him, as if it’s some great secret joke they’re in on. Lance watches it all unfold, feeling like he should say something, like he should join in on the fun, because that’s all it is. Instead, he feels pushed out. He lets the knife drop, and regrets it a bit when it clanks on the counter. Keith flinches at the loud noise and turns a questioning look onto Lance, once again wanting to ask what on earth his problem was.

Hunk straightens up, an easy smile on his face. “I was just kidding Lance, you can be my dice master! Keith, what do you say? Lance, the veggie killer.” Hunk spreads his hands as if he’s making a sign, and Keith snorts.

“We’d be going right back to eating goo,” Keith’s addition makes Hunk burst out in a laugh. Neither of them notice at first, but Lance stares at them with a tight-lipped smile. He knows he should laugh, that this is all good fun and he should be happy, too, but he can’t. All Lance feels is like he's getting mocked and pushed away. He feels as small as the comments were, but he isn’t shaking them off. He usually does, like rainwater, but today just isn’t working with him.

“Ha-ha,” Lance says, sounding more sarcastic than he wants. “Well, here are the murdered veggies, man! Call me when dinner’s ready—if the ingredients don’t come back to take their revenge.” Lance has to force the words out and he salutes both boys as he leaves, trying not to look like he’s power-walking away from the kitchen. Anxiety is welling in his chest, and he feels heavy with guilt, because it’s no one’s fault but his own.

Keith doesn’t like the way Lance’s words sound clipped. He pushes off the counter and watches Lance leave, hardly even a smile on his face. He glances towards Hunk, who looks concerned, but not confused. “Was it something we said?” Keith asks, replaying the whole conversation in his mind and trying to pick out what might have been wrong. Lance is the king of banter, and he’s usually slinging retaliations left and right, so what’s different about today?

“Uh,” Hunk starts, turning to his food, and starting to scoop it off the chopping board and into a bowl. “Maybe? I dunno, it must just be a mood. Lance is usually always ready to be savage.” That doesn’t answer Keith much, and he scowls in frustration. Lucky for Hunk, he has his back turned. “You can try talking to him? Sometimes he isolates himself like that, it’s—oh.” Hunk turns to look at Keith, only to find the younger boy gone. Hunk has to shake his head. “Why bother saying it, Keith’s going to go after him anyway,” Hunk says, smiling.

“Hunk, are you talking to the oven again?”

* * *

Keith is surprised that Lance has already gotten so far ahead. He jogged down to their rooms, and still didn’t catch Lance. To be fair, Lance had an unfair advantage with his long legs. Keith reaches Lance’s door and knocks. “Lance? Open up.” It’s not a request so much as it’s a demand, an impatient one, at that. Silence drags on for a few ticks, and Keith is getting ready to knock again, but the door whooshes open right as he starts to. He recoils his arm and looks up, where Lance is staring at him with that same, tight smile. It looks more forced than anything Keith has ever seen from Lance, aside from the times the older boy struggles to pretend he's not hurt.

“You know, most people say ‘please’ when they want something,” Lance says, as if he’s imparting some great knowledge. He backs up, and Keith nudges inside the room as if it’s his own. Lance sighs, but it’s not like he didn’t expect it. The door shuts and he walks right past Keith, to the bed, and skulks out on it.

Keith shifts his weight, debating if he should stand or sit on the bed. He chooses to stand. For now, anyway. “Why did you storm off like that?” Keith asks, blunt enough to feel like a hit on the head.

Lance cringes at his own embarrassing reaction and rolls over, away from Keith. “I didn’t ‘storm off’ or anything, I’m just tired. I’m allowed to come to my own room, aren’t I, Keithy?” Lance knows Keith gets so annoyed by that nickname, just like most nicknames.

Keith bristles at the nickname, but he swallows the ire. He isn’t going to fall for it, Lance is only trying to be defensive and pull old tricks out. Well, screw that. Keith knows better, now. He might not be as good an actor as Lance is, but he can still see through a bunch of bullshit. “Tell me. I know you’re upset,” and Keith wonders how he knows that so well, it’s just so painfully obvious, “was it something we said?” Keith hopes it isn't, but at the same time, he wants to be able to _fix_ it.

Lance groans and raises a hand to his forehead. Where the hell is the distant, hot-headed Keith when you need him? “It’s nothing, all right? It’s just stupid, so leave me alone.” Alone sounded like a sucky option right now, but Lance still wants that. It’s easier to suck it up and get over it, that way. He waits, anxious to hear his door opening. It doesn’t. Instead, the bed dips, and he feels Keith’s hand on his back. It’s tentative, as if uncertain if it should be there, but it stays.

“Okay, so it’s stupid. Tell me anyway,” Keith says.

Lance hates that, how can Keith makes things sound so simple? Not everything is so blunt and straightforward all the time! “I don’t know how to put it into words, okay? I…I feel left out, sometimes," Lance admits. "It’s like I’m an outsider looking in, and I hear things like what Pidge said and I feel like you guys really think that. Like I’m just kinda something you tolerate.” Wow, saying that out loud really sounds whiny. Lance wants to reach for his pillow and suffocate those feelings with it.

Keith’s hand is still on Lance’s back, but after a pause, he moves it, and his fingers are in Lance’s hair. Lance freezes while slim, calloused fingers stroke through his hair, gentle and calm; a lot of things that Lance isn’t, right now. Lance doesn’t say anything, not that he knows what he _could_ say, but the attention feels…nice. Lance likes it, and he pushes backward until he feels Keith’s leg against his back. “Um, you know you’re not, right?” Keith sounds so confused, like he’s trying so hard to think of how to voice what he wants, that Lance can’t help a smile, it’s happening before he notices it.

“I mean, I know you might feel that way sometimes, but it’s not true. We all say crap like that to each other, we don’t mean it. Pidge and Hunk love you, they all do.” Keith is turning red, now, and god he wishes he’d remembered to ask Shiro for advice on how to deal with shit like this. How can Keith even help if he’s got no idea what he’s doing?

Lance’s shoulders shake, and Keith feels himself panic a little. Oh god, did he make Lance cry? What should he do, should he leave, should he get Hunk, should he—

“Oh my god,” Lance says, and Keith realizes with raw relief that Lance isn’t crying. He’s laughing. Lance rolls over to look at Keith, who stares back at him with earnest eyes, his head cocked a bit. Heat rushes to Lance’s face, both from Keith’s expression, and from the realization that Lance thought it was _really, really cute._

“You think that, huh?” Lance smiles, and Keith mirrors it with a small one of his own. In that one moment, Lance gets struck. One, he feels very loved in that one moment. And two, love is a two-way street. Lance shifts over and, reaching up, tugs Keith down beside him. Keith huffs in surprise, but he doesn’t kick Lance off the bed. “Stay here, Hunk will mess around with the food for a while before he’s happy with it.”

When Keith is still, Lance worries that the kick is still coming. That fear gets erased when Keith relaxes and turns onto his side to face Lance. Reaching for Lance's hand, he intertwines their fingers. Lance can’t decide if a kick would have had more oomph to it or not. The two lie in silence together for a comfortable while, content with nothing but the company. Lance likes that Keith’s hand is impossibly warm, and Keith can’t help but run his thumb over the back of Lance’s hand, which is soft and smooth.

“Hey, Lance?” Keith asks, opening his eyes to look at Lance, whose expression is peaceful.

Lance cracks one eye open, “yeah?”

“Next time you get negative feelings, I’ll punch them for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many good insecurity depths to explore. There’s technical insecurity, where you wonder if you’re good at anything, if you suck at everything, even what you like, if you’re just useless and will always be, etc. Then there’s emotional insecurity, where you wonder if you’re worth loving, if your friends secretly hate you or like others more than you, all fun stuff that fucks me up. 
> 
> Anyways, Lance is star-shine and is beloved, I will protect him forever and so will Keith.


	4. By Your Side

IV

Lance has never been so bored in his life. Well, maybe that’s a lie, but right now feels like the most tedious, slow-moving time ever. He’s trapped in bed while the others get to go off and do cool stuff together, while Lance stays cooped up in his room, alone, wasting away. He doesn’t deserve this, he’s a good, upstanding Paladin. An upstanding Paladin who had taken a shot from one of the Galra’s weapons, and had ended up confined to bed rest. Coran was surprisingly unrelenting when it came to some things. Not that the Altean didn't have a point; even with the painkillers in his system, Lance can still feel the aches. He doesn’t want to think about how Galra weapons work, but it had felt like a ball of fire.

Coran had said that, without his Paladin armor, the wound might’ve been fatal. As luck would have it, Lance will heal up within a week. The wound isn’t enough to put him up in a healing pod, as much as Lance wants to have it taken care of in a snap. Coran had cleaned and bandaged Lance’s chest up, and Shiro basically grounded him until Coran deemed Lance well enough to move around without risk of the wound reopening.

“This sucks,” Lance mutters, lip curled in a pout. He isn’t used to being alone and all useless. Even back home, when he got sick, his siblings were always filtering in and out of his room, trying to cheer him up. Lance feels a twinge in his chest, and he's certain it's not from the gaping wound he's got. Well, that might be some of it.

A knock sounds at Lance’s door, breaking the heavy silence in his room that's been clinging to him for hours. He perks up in an instant, relieved for some distraction, no matter which form it came in. “Come on in!” The doors part to let in the visitor, and Lance smiles broadly when Keith comes in, rubbing one arm. “Can’t stay away from me, huh? You miss the Lance?”

Keith snorts, trust Lance to make a joke even when he’s holed up in bed with a serious wound. “I came to check on you, idiot. How is it?” Keith asks, taking a seat on Lance’s bed, no longer awaiting an invitation. Lance sits up and props himself up against the wall. He's shirtless, and his chest is covered in a swathe of bandages, stark white against his brown skin. He winces as he moves, bullets of pain shooting through his nerves. He wishes that the fancy alien tech up here had invented a painkiller that completely knocked you out. At least the pain isn’t half of what it was when he’d first gotten shot. That's not a memory Lance will be able to forget.

Lance flashes a strained smile, “just fine! I’ll be good as new before you know it!" Lance hopes so, anyway, before he turns to dust in this stupid bed. He’s trying to brush it off as no big deal, but it’s kinda nice that Keith is actually worried about him. Not that there's any reason to worry, Lance can handle a little old gunshot wound. Er, cannonshot? “Maybe I’ll get a cool scar out of it!”

Lance’s bravado doesn’t fool Keith. He's too percipient, and he's spent too much time around Lance for the past few months. Back at the beginning, when Lance had treated Keith like a rival, Keith had watched him, then, too. But, once they started growing closer, actually seeking each other out, Keith learned to pick apart Lance's facades. He shakes his head at the show Lance is putting on. “Lance, you don’t have to keep up with your whole tough guy complex,” Keith tells him, “I know it hurts.” Keith was there when Lance had gotten shot, he’d seen it happen. Nausea burns in Keith’s stomach when the scene replays in his head, it’s been stuck on repeat ever since.

Allura had received a distress call from a planet that the castle wasn’t too far from. When they landed on the planet's grassy surface, they were almost immediately ambushed by the Galra soldiers that were occupying the planet and abusing its resources. It was nothing that the Paladins couldn’t handle, they were all trained and accomplished combatants themselves. It was a long battle, but it was all going well, they were pushing the Galra back. The major setback was a large cannon on the main Galra ship. Pidge and Hunk had a plan to take out the cannon, and the others were going to cover them. After it was down, they could get close enough to destroy the ship, it should've been easy, run-of-the-mill.

Keith remembers Pidge creeping around the side of the ship, her Bayard in hand to override the cannon’s controls. He remembers the Galra soldier that sneaked up on her, that had slipped past their radar, and the way he had raised his gun, poised to shoot at her. None of them could react fast enough. The only thing Pidge could do was raise her arms to help block the brunt of it, and she might've been fine. Keith vaguely remembers Shiro shouting for her to brace herself, because they both knew she wasn’t going to dodge in time. Keith couldn't close his eyes as the scene unfolded, it had all happened in slow motion. It was Keith's mistake, for not watching Lance, for not remembering his position. Lance had been closest to Pidge, and before any of them could do anything, could intervene, Lance was launching forward and shoving Pidge out of the path of the Galra’s aim. Pidge had shouted at him, Shiro had sworn into the coms, and Keith's heart had stopped. He can still feel the way it had frozen in his chest like a block of ice. The Galra gun fired, and the light of the flash was absolutely blinding. They all heard Lance's scream.

Thankfully, before Keith can sink further into the memory, Lance snaps him out of it. “It’s not a _complex_ , I’m just naturally a tough guy!” Lance leans into the wall with a grimace, and Keith feels himself wince in empathy. “How’s Pidge?” Lance asks, in a quieter voice. He doesn't remember much of what happened after getting shot. He remembers hearing Keith shout, and something red catching his vision right before going down. After that, Lance's memory became spotty.

“She’s doing better, Shiro’s with her.” When Keith had last seen Pidge, she was pale as a sheet, but Shiro was reassuring her it wasn’t her fault. And it hadn’t been, none of them had seen that soldier until it was too late. Lance definitely doesn’t blame her, and he’d told her as much, as soon as he’d gained consciousness in the medical wing. She had felt horrible after the incident, Keith had had to yell at her to finish taking out the cannon after he’d killed the Galra soldier who’d shot Lance. As soon as the cannon was down, the others could finish taking out the ship. Pidge and Hunk succeeded, even with anxiety shaking their hands, and Keith's next priority was getting Lance back safely.

“Good, I can’t believe she thinks it was her fault. I can take a hit from some puny Galra!” Lance fist-pumps the air, and Keith finds himself relieved that some of Lance’s personality is returning. Seeing Lance unconscious and bleeding profusely from the wound in his chest…that had wrenched panic from the deepest corners of Keith’s heart. He hadn’t felt that way in so long, not since he first learned Shiro was missing. There had been so much blood, and when Keith didn’t get a response from Lance, he would’ve believed the boy to be dead.

Keith had gripped Lance’s wrist, and held his breath until he found the weak, but steady pulse. The relief that filled Keith’s chest was immense, but it was cold and sharp, like he was drowning in it. Only when Lance opened his eyes in the infirmary, and Keith saw the familiar, deep blue of his eyes, did he relax. Lance had seen him first, and had smiled a soft, warm smile that still sends shudders down Keith’s back just remembering it.

“Are you okay, too? I’m impressed you carried me back, you’re like, half my size.” Hunk had been the one who told Lance that part, otherwise Lance would've never found out. The Cuban boy is snickering now, and he thinks himself lucky that he's injured, otherwise he’s pretty sure Keith would have socked him in the arm.

True to that suspicion, Keith scowls. “I’m barely two inches shorter than you are, genius,” Keith tells him, “and unless you want head trauma to add to your list, you’ll shut up.”

Lance never misses a chance to lord that slight difference over Keith, why would he let this opportunity, when Keith can’t retaliate much, slip past? Lance snickers at the great reaction—seriously, if Keith learns not to take the bait, Lance might not give him such a hard time. _Might_ not. “All right, half-pint,” Lance smirks, and when Keith’s cheeks puff out in that annoyed pout, Lance can’t help a real laugh. Pain immediately rockets through his chest and his hand shoots up to touch over his heart, worried it might burst out of his ribcage. That’s what this feels like, and it's frightening. If he ever sees another Galra gun again, he’s gonna crack it over their head.

A pair of warm hands rest on Lance’s shoulders, and a worried voice asks, “Lance? Is it bad?” Keith is ready to hop up and go fetch Coran, but he also doesn't want to leave Lance alone. He knows Lance hates it, and even if it'd only be for a few minutes, Keith can't bring himself to.

Lance pries his eyes open and looks up, and he’s surprised to find how close Keith is to him. Keith’s eyes are soft with concern and his brows are knitted together, his lips pursed in a worried line. Keith is worried about him. The cheeky response Lance has in the back of his throat dissolves. How can he lie to such a face? Especially when the person behind it would probably see right through it? “K—Kinda,” he admits, the closest he’d come to saying that it hurt like a son of a cheese. “The painkiller should kick in soon but, uh, it doesn’t exactly feel good right now.”

Keith frowns, and Lance glances at his lips and swallows. “I’ll stay here with you,” Keith says, as straightforward and firm as ever. He never really takes a “no” from Lance. “In case you need something. You’re probably going crazy in here, anyway,” Keith smirks at that, and Lance wishes he wasn’t so close. But, when Keith pulls away, Lance finds he wishes he hadn’t.

Keith kicks off his shoes, because Lance doesn’t let Keith wear them in beds anymore. He crosses his legs up on the bed and looks very well like he belongs right there. The two boys stare at each other for a moment, and Lance swears his own heartbeat is echoing off the walls. He’s never been this way around Keith—not like this, not so, so…Lance can’t find the word. There’s a lot of ‘em.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Keith says, snapping Lance’s attention forward. Keith is looking down instead of at Lance, but Lance’s eyes stay glued to Keith’s face, afraid to miss a second. “When I saw you get shot, I panicked. I haven’t felt that way in a long time, the last time I felt that scared was when Shiro went missing,” Keith shares, his hand resting against Lance’s thigh. “So, try not to get shot again, asshole.”

Lance’s eyes are round with shock for several seconds before he shuts them, a grin tugging at his mouth. Keith’s hardly been in his room for half an hour, and already Lance feels leaps better than earlier, when he’d been alone and stuck in this quiet room. “I’ll try not to, and I’ll try to make sure Shiro doesn’t disappear on us,” he says. In a bold move, one Lance is willing to risk, he reaches down and laces his fingers with Keith’s. They’ve held hands before, but Lance is still hesitant about what amount of space Keith needs.

Keith still isn’t sure himself, but he’s starting to grow used to Lance’s affection. That may even be too weak a word. Keith is subtle about it, but he’s started to initiate a lot of the touch between the two of them, now. He finds that he feels calmer when he’s close to Lance, and especially now, after the panic of earlier.

He's almost afraid to let Lance go, like he'll disappear and Keith can't save him. Keith leans forward a bit, resting his elbow on his knee. “Is this another story to tell the stars? All about how the hero saved his friend?” Keith asks, because although he sucks at finding any topics when it comes to conversation, he knows by now that talking keeps Lance’s mind busy and puts him at ease. He wants to keep Lance’s mind off the pain, and off the fresh memory, because if it haunts Keith, he can’t imagine how Lance feels.

That _would_ make a pretty great tale, Lance thinks. “Yeah, but we’d have to tell it together. I’m not the only hero here,” Lance points out, and he’s leaning forward now, too. He doesn't know what they're doing—or, he kind of does, but does Keith think the same?

Keith lifts his head a bit, one brow cocking as he mulls that over. “I’m not that great at it, but I’ll try. Maybe in a day or two I’ll take you up, so you can see something other than your own ceiling.” Keith’s suggestion might not fly with Shiro or Coran, but he’d probably do it anyway.

Lance shrugs, “I don’t know, I like the view I have right now,” he winks, and Keith has to process it for a moment.

When he does, his eyes widen, uncertain with what to do with that realization. Should he brush it off, should he laugh? “Uh—I like it, too. The view, I mean,” he says, because maybe just returning it is right? He feels awkward saying it, and he feels his face heating up in embarrassment. It's not like they had any classes for this back at the Garrison.

When Lance’s face starts to flush, Keith feels like he finally has a little payback for the times over the past couple of months that Lance has made him do that. “Ugh, do you have to be cute?” Lance mumbles, and he’s leaning closer, and Keith isn’t leaning back. He wonders if he should, until Lance’s forehead is against his own. They’re so close, they’ve never been this close. The closest they’d been lately being earlier on, when Keith had carried Lance back to the castle. Lance had been out cold, so it’s not like it counted. Neither of them move for a moment, and Keith feels his heart racing, but it doesn’t make him want to move. To his surprise, this isn’t uncomfortable, like he thought it must be whenever he read those ridiculous romance books. (Shiro liked them, not Keith.)

Somewhere, Lance finds his voice. His eyes are lost in Keith’s own, round and waiting, and such a deep shade of violet, almost inhuman. “Can I?” he asks, his voice so low and hopeful.

Keith doesn’t do anything at first, he has to consider what Lance has asked for a moment, and then how he should answer for another. Keith hasn’t ever kissed someone before, but it can’t be harder than learning how to use a knife, right? People did this all the time. So, before he can second guess himself, Keith leans forward and grazes his lips against Lance’s. It’s a soft, tentative kiss. It’s the best, Keith decides, without anything to compare it to. He knows.

When Keith pulls back, Lance takes a moment before his eyes flutter open again. Neither of them remembers shutting their eyes. Keith is a little red, and he’s waiting for Lance to _say_ _something_. Did Keith do it wrong, or maybe Lance didn’t feel what Keith had? “Uh,” Keith starts, searching for something to say to break the silence.

“Holy shit,” Lance’s words come out as an exhale. His grin is so wide it almost hurts, and Keith feels his own lips pulling up. Yeah, that sounds about right. “I have to get hurt more often.”

Keith rolls his eyes and lies down, pulling Lance with him. “If you die, I can’t kiss you again, so don’t pull anything,” Keith warns. “Go to sleep, you need it.”

“Don’t go full-Shiro on me,” Lance mumbles, but he shifts to lie down comfortably and rests his head on top of Keith’s chest. Keith’s arms wrap around Lance, and he hugs the boy as much as he dares, mindful of Lance’s wound. Lance doesn’t seem uncomfortable at all, in fact, Keith is pretty sure Lance is smiling, but he’s hiding his face against Keith’s chest so he can’t be certain. In the silence of the bedroom, Keith’s eyes start to slip closed. Lance is close to falling asleep too, with the way Keith is slowly stroking his hair.

“Are you gonna remember this one?” Keith asks, his words muffled against Lance’s hair.

Lance smirks, “maybe you’ll have to keep reminding me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally hate this??? I wrote it the first time, hit almost 2.5k, and realized /shit/ I’m gonna have to write a new version, this one’s not cutting it. I dunno, I might turn that into a new thing, but it’s too similar to this and I don’t know what I’d do for the ending. Until then, there’s two more chapters to go of this lil monster!


	5. Panic in Silence

V

Lance can genuinely say that silence has never been a part of his life. From the day he was born, his life had been full of music, laughter, and booming conversations. He has a big family! Moments of peace were rare, almost like a cryptid. Lance is the eldest of four kids! He’s used to hearing the giggles and squabbling of his siblings, of watching over them, and playing with them. He’s used to his mother singing, or having laughing fits with her own sisters and mother. Or, his father’s booming voice, whether he was laughing or just talking, the man didn’t know what whispering meant. Lance is used to music, singing, and dancing, to pots and pans clanking. Even in school and at the Garrison, Lance had gotten used to other kids laughing or arguing amongst each other, to the sound of people running through the halls. Schools were never quiet.

Here, in outer space, the silence is crushing, suffocating, and deafening in its own right. Because of the silence in loneliness, Lance is almost always with one of the others. Usually Hunk or Pidge, and now more often, Keith. Sometimes he’ll trail Coran, because the older Altean always has tons of stories to share. Allura is happy to share stories too, but she’ll get misty eyed sometimes and have to stop. Shiro is better if you want advice or a listening ear, but Lance wants someone to entertain him, to be loud and energetic, to be anything other than this heinous silence that’s swallowing him whole.

After living so long in cacophony, Lance doesn’t know how to cope with silence, and it’s eating him alive. His own thoughts are like sirens in his head, loud and blaring. He can’t even remember what it’s like living surrounded by the comforting sounds of laughter, or even his friends arguing. He’s by himself right now, and yes, he knows he can go and find someone to alleviate this silence, but Lance can’t bring himself to move. Even imagining this crushing, iron grip of silence vanishing is impossible, Lance feels like he’s trapped in this void forever. Space doesn’t make sounds, it’s always nothingness. No animals, no cars, no wind, no anything!

Quiet helps most people think, but not Lance. No, he hates it, it leaves him worried and distracted, because when it’s silent then something is wrong. Nothing on Earth is ever totally silent. Frustrated, Lance shakes his head at the thoughts, trying to jostle them away. Jesus, what’s wrong with him? It’s always quiet around the castle, but tonight, his brain isn’t coping with it. It’s pumping him full of adrenaline and leaving him with scattered thoughts. Lance doesn’t understand how anyone can prefer the quiet over the soothing promise of there being life around them. Lance knows he isn’t alone, but right now, in the lack of any noise, he feels like the only living thing for miles.

Lance leans back and knocks his head against the wall, much harder than he meant to, and accidentally hurts himself. The sound echoes around him for a brief time, and when it’s gone, he’s tempted to knock on the wall again just for the sound it comforts him with. None of the others would get what Lance was going through, not really, they would think he should feel relieved to have some peace for once. It’s so far from the truth that Lance wishes he could laugh. Instead he makes a choked, frustrated sound. In his frazzled mind, Lance can see only one person that he wants to visit right now.

Keith’s presence always makes Lance feel calmer, safer, like he has someone to turn to when things have gone to hell. Sure, most people thought of Keith as the cold-shoulder, devil-may-care guy, but Lance knows better. He's seen Keith trying to get the attention of weird space animals to pet them, and he's seen Keith laugh so hard he's started snorting. Keith can make Lance feel at home in a place where home is never permanent. So, Lance scrambles off the floor, and tries to be somewhat dignified as he storms out of the lounging room and towards Keith’s own. It’s late, but he knows Keith won’t be asleep. Keith isn’t a good sleeper, Lance has learned. They’ve stayed the night at one another’s rooms a few times now, and it’s growing commoner. But, Keith tends to stay awake either reading, messing with his knife, or sometimes, Lance thinks Keith will simply lie there and get lost in his own head for a while. There are nights that Keith will come into Lance’s room, somewhere in the middle of the night, and Lance can tell that the Red Paladin has spent the whole night in the training room. Keith is more exhausted on those mornings, but he seems to fall asleep easier once he hits the mattress. It's like he has to stress his thoughts away before he can get any sleep.

True to his expectations, when Lance knocks on Keith’s door, it pops open a few moments later. Keith has the light on, and a book gets tossed onto the desk. He also has his hair tied up, Lance notices. Oh, does he notice. Keith’s brow furrows when he sees it’s Lance, somehow looking both relieved and worried in the same expression. “Lance? It’s late, why are you still up?” he asks, but Lance barrels into Keith’s room before he’s even finished talking. “Hey!” Keith turns, watching as Lance goes and thuds on the bed. Hearing Keith talk is comforting, but there’s not really a way Lance can say that without sounding super weird.

Keith walks away from the entry to the room and the doors shut. He’s a little familiar now, with certain moods that Lance gets, but this isn’t like the ones when he’s homesick or feeling down about himself. This time, Lance looks antsy, his leg is bouncing and he’s twitching his fingers. It’s almost like he’s getting ready to jump up and run, or something. Keith stands in front of Lance and looks down at him. “I can’t help if you don’t talk to me,” Keith tells Lance, trying to sound patient.

Lance sighs heavily. “I don’t know what’s wrong,” he confesses, “it’s just so _quiet_.” Keith’s brows knit in confusion, and Lance waves his hands in front of himself in an exasperated attempt to talk through them. “It’s just silent everywhere in this freaking castle, and I can’t take it anymore! I come from a big, loud, happy family, Keith. I don’t do quiet, it makes my head pound!”

Keith stares at Lance for a moment, comprehending the explanation that has Lance so frustrated. “You…get headaches from things be quiet instead of loud?” he clarifies, incredulous. Lance flops back on Keith’s bed so hard that he sends the pillow bouncing up a few inches. Of course, Keith finds a way to make it sound simple.

“I know it sounds weird! But I was practically born into a party,” Lance says. “I’ve never had to deal with it being quiet, so it’s like a foreign thing. I just feel it closing in around me sometimes, and I realize how alone and silent space is.” He knows that the others work well in peace and quiet, and Pidge even gets annoyed if someone talks to her too much when she’s working, but Lance isn’t like the others. He doesn’t know what he expects Keith to do about it, but something is better than nothing, isn’t it? Hell, Keith could walk around banging two books together, and Lance would be ecstatic.

Keith cocks his head. Right, so, Lance just needs noise? Keith feels like he’s dumbing that down a lot, and he knows he is, but it’s a pretty simple solution, isn’t it? “I know we don’t have any of the technology we had on Earth here yet,” Keith says, and he adds the “yet” because he knows Pidge is working on a couple of projects, “but maybe music would help?” Music used to help Keith focus when he needed to get something done, and he didn’t want to keep listening to the howling desert wind at night.

Lance moves his hands from his face. “Music?” he asks, dubious, “where do you get music out here?” Lance has heard some weird alien noises that certain species tried to pass off as music, but it’s not real, legitimate songs. Keith cuts his eyes away and rubs the back of his head, and Lance suddenly devotes all his attention to this idea. “Keith?”

Maybe this isn’t the best suggestion, Keith thinks. “Uh, I could sing, or something. My dad used to say my mom had a pretty voice, I kind of got some of that, I guess—”

“You sing?!” Lance interrupts, having bolted up in the bed, his eyes alight with wonder. Keith gives a half-shrug, but Lance isn’t dropping this lightly. “Come on, I want to hear! You can’t say something like that and be all secretive!” Lance pats the bed eagerly, calling for Keith to come sit.

Keith tilts his back and groans to himself. Well, it’s a mess he got himself in, so he technically deserves it. Lance’ll probably just laugh, and at least then he won’t be so upset anymore. He shuffles towards his bed and sits behind Lance, loops his arms around Lance’s waist, and hugs him from behind. “Fine, but don’t expect anything great,” Keith grumbles, racking his brain for a song. He guesses it doesn’t really matter, so long as it provides some background noise for Lance to focus on. Keith settles on an older song that he remembers from when he was very little, still living with his dad. Keith used to sing the old lullaby to himself, sometimes, after his father left. He takes a breath, and lets the words flow through his memory like water. They taste so familiar on his lips, even when he hasn’t sung them in ages.

Lance is silent and still while Keith sings to him, and even Keith begins to relax, his eyes slipping shut as he lets the comfort of the song wash over them both. It’s a quiet, melodious lullaby, likely meant for a woman’s voice, Keith thinks. He’s sure his dad had gotten it from his mother, and Keith sometimes wishes he had gotten to hear her sing. The tranquil sound of his voice wraps around the room like a warm blanket, and Lance sinks into Keith’s embrace like he’s melting. The song lasts for a few minutes, but when Keith trails off on the last note, the song feels much too short. He exhales a long breath, having forgotten how trained your voice needed to be to keep up with a longer song like that. Lance hasn’t said anything yet, and Keith kind of wishes he could see his boyfriend’s face. “Did that help at all?” he finally ventures.

“Oh my god,” Lance eventually breathes, his voice heavy and airy with awe. Keith bounces back and forth on whether that’s a good or bad reaction, but Lance is pulling up out of his arms before he can ask. He whips around and points a finger at Keith. “You have a voice like _that_ , and you’ve never sung to any of us before?! That’s tyranny!” Lance accuses, sounding seriously offended.

Surprised by that, because it’s not the reaction Keith had expected, the Korean boy snorts in disbelief. “It’s just a voice,” he argues, “but, it helped?”

Lance has no idea how this kid can be so oblivious. When they get back to Earth, he’s getting Keith a record deal. A sweet smile coats Lance’s previous, offended scowl, and he leans back down against Keith’s chest. “Keep singing,” Lance says, answering Keith’s question. There’s a pleasant warmth in Lance’s chest now, and his head isn’t so fuzzy and angry anymore, with Keith’s lingering song still wrapped around him.

Keith rolls his eyes, what monster has he created, this time? Still, he’s a sucker for Lance’s smile. Lance knows it, too. Keith leans back and brings Lance with him, getting more comfortable while he considers another song. Singing is relaxing, more so than Keith remembers. Still, he thinks that most of that is because he's with Lance. Keith hasn’t felt this relaxed at nighttime in months. With Lance near him, Keith doesn’t feel like he needs to be defensive.

Maybe there's a home in space after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, Keith didn’t sing any country songs, ya’ll can get right on out of here with that.
> 
> Do any of you get really uncomfortable if it’s dead silent? I can’t deal with noise at all, but the dead silence makes me feel like I’m gonna hear some otherworld shit that I shouldn’t. Creeps me out, man.
> 
> Edit: I'd also like to warn that while I hope to have the last chapter out next Sunday, I'm not sure it'll work out that way. I wrote the chapter, but I'm not satisfied, so I'm gonna see if I can edit it and revise it into something I like, or if I want to scrap and start over. I'll probably have it done, I just want to put this warning up if I don't so you'll at least have an explanation, haha!


	6. Safe Tonight

I

Keith can hardly remember the last night like this, they’ve become scarcer as he grows older, but they never vanquish. He doubts they ever will, as much as he shrugs it off, there’s always a lingering pair of claws that refuses to let go of his subconscious. When he’s asleep, unable to iron-bar his thoughts and lock out anything unwelcome, that’s when those claws start tearing him open. He’s exposed, vulnerable, and unable to fend his enemies off. The deadliest enemies come in the night, silent, even if they’re roaring inside his head.

They’re memories.

Most of them are years old, but every bit as fresh as the night they’d taken place. Vividly, they flash behind Keith’s eyelids, and his face scrunches, his body curling in. After everything he's tried, nothing makes them stop, nothing makes him forget. He doesn’t talk about them, he doesn’t bring them up, he tries not to even think about them, and still they come creeping back. He hates that they’re still with him, that he can’t let go like every other normal person. He hates that he still lets them have some control over him.

It’s his fault.

It's all Keith's fault. If only he'd been better, if he were a good kid, if he were stronger. Guilt and shame well in his chest, a pressure building until it's hard to breathe, but he can't move. It's like they weigh too much inside him. Words start to whisper at Keith, hissing out from the darkness like a villain hoping to lure a starry-eyed child into their clutches.

_“You’re an ungrateful kid!” one voice seethes._

_“Why can’t you be a good, sweet child, like the others! You’re just a little brat, aren’t you?” another sidles in._

_The voices come from the dark as empty and amorphous as a shadow, but soon, they start to take shape. They drip and stretch into figures that tower and glare, with such intense anger in their eyes that Keith’s heart skips a beat in panic. Adrenaline pulses through him, too fast and too much, and it makes his chest ache when his heart begins pounding in a furious, erratic run. He wants to hide, to escape, to do something. He can’t, though, he’s stuck where he is, like a deer caught in headlights, unable to protect itself against oncoming danger. People always call a deer so stupid for not running, for not saving itself._

_“Are you listening to me? You can’t even listen right, can you!” a voice snaps, and oh, Keith is listening. It would be impossible not to, the words are booming off every wall and filling his ears like cotton. He peers up, tilting his head way back to look the shouting, towering figure in the eye. He knows she’s a woman, but he can’t put together her features correctly. He can see them, but it’s like he doesn’t know how to call them._

_“Damn it, boy, do something right for once instead of just taking up space! You’re lucky we took you in, nobody else was going to want some scrawny, stupid brat wasting up their time!” Keith flinches as another voice, this one masculine and encompassing, starts to shout at him, too. He covers his ears, but it does nothing to block out the words._

_“Why do you have to be so difficult? No wonder you’re in foster care, no one wants such a difficult, worthless kid!” Now, the voices are growing louder, and the words are cold and hard, like ice. “You can’t even answer me right, why won’t you talk like a normal kid! Are you brain-dead, you damned waif?”_

_Air is starting to get stuck in Keith’s chest. He can’t exhale it, and he can’t make room to inhale more, even when the oxygen trapped inside him is scorching away to ash. It hurts, and he tries to express that it does. He reaches out, but his hands touch nothing but air. No one reaches back, nothing except angry, disgusted voices._

_“What, what’s the matter now? You always got something to complain about! Why don’t you go stand in the corner for a few hours and leave me alone! Go on, out of my sight. I’m tired of your ungrateful, spoiled whining!” The shouting makes Keith retract his hands immediately, as if burned. “You should be happy I let you in here at all! You wanna be out on the streets, or in some cell? That’s where you’d be without me. Maybe that’s where kids like you belong!”_

_No, that’s not what Keith wants. He’s sorry. He’s sorry, sorry, sorry, and as much as he says it, the more they laugh at him. Anything he does ends up with ridicule; he thought if he was still, quiet, that he was being good, but even that earns him scorn. Even that means he’s being difficult._

_“Not that one, he's too quiet. Too hard to get to open up. You’ll never bond with him, he’s too troublesome, it’s better to look at a different child, one you can love.”_

_“No one’s going to love you. No one’s going to want you. You might as well suck it up like a man and learn how to take care of yourself before the system dumps you at eighteen!” A cackle follows the exclamation, and Keith hears it bouncing around in his head. His chest still hurts, and he feels as if he hasn’t taken a breath in ages. He wants to call out, to say that something is wrong, but he bites his tongue. He knows better. Keith was taught better._

_Panicking, water wells up in his eyes, leaving them a glistening indigo and the world a blurry puddle of colors. That makes Keith panic even more, and he tries desperately to stem off the tears that are now starting to drip down his cheeks. He coughs on a hiccup and reaches up, rubbing hard at his face to scrub away the evidence, but it’s too late._

_“Are you crying?” a deep, gravelly voice asks, quiet at first. “Are you fucking crying? What have you got to cry about! Only pussies cry, is that what you are? You don’t have anything to cry about, you little brat, but I’ll give you a reason!” Keith tries to back away, but his back scrapes against a wall behind him. He’s backed into a corner—always the corner, a dusty, lonesome corner._

_Strong hands wrap around his wrists, big enough to completely engulf them. Keith winces as the tight, steel grip crushes his arms and yanks him forward. “Look at me when I talk to you, and stop that god damn sniveling!” the man shouts, and the hands start shaking Keith violently. He closes his eyes and grits his teeth, his bones rattling inside as he’s shaken until the grip loosens, and he thuds back against the wall behind him. After falling back, Keith shoves his arms in front of him as a weak guardrail. They’re bruised, and the purplish marks are ugly against his pallid skin._

_From above him comes a sneering laugh. “You don’t hide from me, boy. You don’t run from me, and you don’t fight me! You do as you’re told, when you’re told, or else!” Keith’s hands get smacked away from in front of him, and he realizes how useless he is. How he can’t even fight back. A large, angry hand grabs Keith by the jaw, squeezing hard. “I said stop fucking crying you pathetic brat!”_

_When the hand reels back, Keith flinches back, expecting it to lash out and hit him. Instead, it stops right before it lands, and rests against his damp cheek. “Keith,” the voice has lowered considerably. Keith opens his eyes again, and the hand on his face doesn’t move, staying still and warm against his face. “Keith,” the voice repeats, but it doesn’t sound the same, it’s different from the others, and it’s somehow louder while still being so much softer. It’s like it’s closer to Keith than the others were. Keith brings both of his hands to his chest, where he still cannot breathe, and where his heart still fights to break from his rib cage. He doesn’t understand, but he can feel something tugging at him, he just doesn’t know what it wants._

_“Keith!”_

Keith jars awake, his eyes fly open and his heart jumps up into his throat. The hand on his face jerks back when Keith launches up, pushing himself up onto his hands and sucking in a gasp that offers his burning chest no relief. A sheet falls off Keith and flutters down to his waist, and he realizes his hands are sinking into a mattress. He’s in a bed—he’s in a room, and it’s not the dark, freezing one from before, though Keith still shivers because he’s covered in a cold sweat. A hand touches him again, this time his shoulder, and it’s warm, gentle, but not hesitant. It holds Keith firmly, as if trying to anchor him. Startled, Keith flinches and expects the hand to start shaking him. “Keith, it’s just me,” and Keith recognizes that voice.

Snapping his head up, Keith looks into a vibrantly clear blue gaze, and it surprises him to see the concern in them. His vision blurs, then, and with horror, Keith feels that his face is wet. He’s been crying—he’s _still_ crying. His chest is nothing but charred remains after a wildfire ravished it, and Keith starts to gasp, frantic to suck in air. He can’t breathe, he can’t breathe. His chest burns, and his head throbs, and he _can’t_. The voices still echo inside his head, and adrenaline is still hurtling through his bloodstream. He wants to fight, to protect himself, but he can’t figure out what against.

Lance’s expression melds into surprise. He had awoken a few minutes ago, when Keith had started making quiet sounds in his sleep. Lance had presumed it a normal dream, but when his eyes grew used to the darkness, he could see Keith’s face was shining. Keith was crying. Shocked into full consciousness, Lance had sat up, and he remembers the way Keith choked on a pained sound and curled further into himself. That was when Lance had had to wake him up, the sight of Keith hurting made Lance hurt, too, and he had to do something.

Now, looking at Keith’s terrified face, Lance feels his chest constrict. This isn’t the first time the two had shared a bed, there’s been a few times before, but this has never happened. At least…not where Lance had woken up. The thought of what could have been in Keith’s nightmare is nauseating when Lance even considers it. He can see it in Keith’s eyes, the way he looks at Lance and tries to assess; safe or a threat? Whatever the dream had been about wasn’t just a dream, it had been real.

“Ssh, Keith, you’re all right,” Lance murmurs, and he means it. “You’re in my room, you’re safe!” Lance squeezes Keith’s shoulder, and he can feel the trembles. Keith is shaking so hard that Lance is afraid he’s going to shake himself apart. “Ssh, don’t cry, you're okay now,” Lance continues, though Keith’s desperate breathing doesn’t relax, nor does his shaking.

“I’m sorry,” Keith chokes out.

What? Lance blinks, doubting he’d heard right. Did Keith just…say he was sorry? Sorry for what? Lance narrows his eyes and sits up further, propping up against the wall so he can sit upright. Keith refuses to look Lance in the eye. “Keith, what are—”

“I’m sorry,” Keith repeats, and his voice is so raw and open, like he’s pleading for Lance to believe what he’s saying. “I’m sorry, I won’t…I can’t help it,” Keith says, and his entire body shudders with a sob that’s barely repressed. He knows he shouldn’t be like this, that he shouldn’t be crying, and he’s trying so hard to pull himself together, he just…if only he could breathe. Keith knows he’s going to get in trouble again, any second the yelling is going to start. Lance will push him away and tell him to leave, that he doesn’t want someone so pathetic; that Voltron doesn’t need someone so pathetic.

Lance’s eyes soften, even as a hot coil curls inside him, because _oh god, what happened to you?_ Lance can’t focus on that thought now, though. Keith needs him. “Keith, stop apologizing,” Lance tells him, and he cups Keith’s cheek, tilting his face so he’s looking at Lance. “You have nothing to be sorry for, I promise. I’m right here, you’re safe, you’re okay!” Lance draws Keith close to him, and he half-expects Keith to shove him off, but that doesn’t happen. Keith’s hands bury into the front of Lance’s shirt, and they cling, like Keith is afraid of letting go. He doesn’t have to worry, Lance isn’t going to.

“I’ve got you,” Lance murmurs, carding his fingers through Keith’s hair. His arms are tight around Keith, holding the boy together so he won’t shake apart at the seams. Keith’s breath is frantic and quick against Lance’s neck, and Lance knows he has to do something to calm Keith down from the panic attack before he hurts himself worse. Racking his brain, Lance decides on his best bet, to distract. So, he pulls Keith all the way into his lap and keeps his arms around Keith’s waist, hugging the younger boy close to protect him from whatever demons are still lurking too near.

And Lance starts to sing. His voice is soft in the room, gentle but clear. Keith’s panicked breathing catches in his chest for a moment as he listens. Lance’s voice is deep, still heavy with sleep, but it’s comforting. Keith remembers Lance singing in the shower, as he's done many times before, but now his voice sounds so clear. It’s beautiful, quiet, and soothing. Keith can’t focus on the words, so he focuses on the singing itself, and lets Lance’s voice wash over him. Gradually, Keith sinks against Lance, his breathing coming down from panicked gasping to ragged wheezing, and eventually, to calm, slow breathing. Neither boy keeps track of how long that takes, but Lance never falters as he sings to Keith.

Resting his face against Lance’s shoulder, Keith exhales a long breath. His cheeks are still damp, but he’s stopped crying, and his chest no longer aches. He's drained and exhausted beyond belief, but it’s not the same frigid, heavy type he’s familiar with. He’s not alone this time, he’s safe. Lance lets his voice trail off, relieved that Keith is no longer in the jaws of delirious panic. With his chin resting atop Keith’s head, Lance basks in the peaceful quiet in the room for a moment before he breaks it. “You want to talk about it?” he asks, because as itching with curiosity as he is, he doesn’t want to drag Keith into a spotlight and beat an answer out of him. Lance doubts that, if he had dreams like that, he’d want to share them either.

Keith knows that question is unavoidable, just like he knows the answer is. But, it’s too much for one night. “I want to go back to sleep,” Keith mumbles, drowsy as he slides off Lance’s lap. Lance chuckles, but he follows Keith in lying down. Instead of their usual, comfortable space, Keith pushes against Lance, his face hidden against the older boy’s chest. Lance doesn’t hesitate before wrapping his arms around his boyfriend to hug him close. “Another night,” Keith promises, and he knows he’ll have to talk someday. Only Shiro knows pieces of Keith’s past, so he’s not very good at talking about it, but it isn’t like Lance expects Keith to share an eloquent story. For now, though, Keith is tired, and he knows Lance has to be, too. With his forehead resting against Lance’s chest, Keith can feel the strong heartbeat there, and he sighs in contentment. Lance smiles and presses a kiss to Keith’s forehead.

“Sounds good. Get some sleep, Keith. I’ve got you.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :^) ya girl isn’t okay
> 
> I was listening to Helium by Mikey Wax while writing this too and it’s got me fucked up, I suggest giving it a listen if you haven’t heard it!
> 
> Also, I told my friend a while ago about having a headcanon about Lance singing to calm his friends or family down, how could I not write that? Boy’s got the voice of an angel.


End file.
